


Drawings

by JetBlackGoldfish



Category: Political RPF
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-05 04:05:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17911667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JetBlackGoldfish/pseuds/JetBlackGoldfish
Summary: Muammar spends a night in the tent at the compound, and lets out his creative side





	Drawings

Muammar left the compound and went into the tent. It was the middle of the night, but he just couldn't sleep, and had been tossing and turning for an hour. He thought that maybe he would get a better night's sleep in here.

In the middle of the tent were an open drawing pad and some crayons. _Saif, you're supposed to tidy up after yourself!_ he thought, but he remembered Safiya picking him up and saying it was time for bed. Muammar sat down, cross-legged, on the floor and looked through little Saif's drawings. They're very good for a child of his age - particularly, Muammar thinks, the drawing of the camel in the desert dotted with palm trees. He turned onto the next page and couldn't help but feel moved - a drawing of a little boy with curly, black hair. On his left, a drawing of a woman with long and thick black hair and on the right, a tall man wearing an ordinary-looking suit, also with curly, black hair.

_My little boy drew us..._

Muammar turned onto the next page and saw it was blank. He shivered a little and wrapped a blanket around himself. As a boy, he was so serious and so unlike other children that he never did any drawing, not even in the desert sand, but maybe, just once in his life, he could attempt to draw something other than a diagram...

He picked up the box of crayons and felt a bit annoyed - there was one brown crayon, and it was a dark brown. Muammar looked at his hand and observed his golden skin... there were no crayons close enough to his skin tone... but Saif had drawn himself and his parents with the brown crayon... so Muammar decided it would have to do.

So Muammar drew an oval sort of shape, trying to make it look more square at the bottom. He felt a bit embarrassed about it, but it was the middle of the night and there was no-one else around. He then drew two little semi-circles on each side, while feeling his own ears.

With the brown crayon, he drew a smile at the bottom of the oval-square, and then a little vertical line above the smile. Finally, above the nose he drew two circles. He picked up a black crayon, as black as the sky outside, and drew some curly hair.

Muammar then picked up the brown crayon again and drew a neck below the face, but felt that he'd drawn it a little too long, and soon picked up a dark green crayon. He drew a long rectangular shape and coloured it in meticulously. He picked up the black crayon again and drew a long vertical line across the middle, drawing a few little black circles as buttons on one side. He picked up the green crayon and drew a rectangle on each side as sleeves, and then drew a pair of green trousers, colouring them in, and drawing shoes with a black crayon, before picking up the brown crayon and drawing his arms - just stick arms with three fingers, but Muammar joked to himself that his arms actually did look like that anyway.

His drawing of himself was finished, and yes, it looked childish, but Muammar thought it looked like him. There was a lot of white space left on the paper, and Muammar wanted to fill it...

'Brother Leader, are you here?'

Muammar gasped, closing the drawing pad and covering that and the crayons with a pillow, resting his head on the pillow. Trying to sound tired, he said 'Yes, I'm here.'

The new housekeeper entered, a man in his early 20s with very short hair. 'Brother Leader, I am sorry to disturb you at this time of night, but the portacabin mens' bathroom has run out of hand soap. Do you know where the hand soap is kept?'

Muammar sat up - the guy was new, after all. 'Yes, I do,' he said, wrapping the blanket around himself and standing up. It was a bit of a walk and meant going back into the compound, and the housekeeper, being new and seeing Brother Leader as a hero, had a lot of questions, and was hoping he wasn't coming across as annoying.

'Do you always sleep in the tent?'   
'No,' Muammar replies, 'normally I sleep in the compound with Safiya.'   
'Has there been - '  
'No, Ibrahim, there has not been any arguments,' Muammar said. 'Sometimes I just need to sleep in a tent, it helps me to reflect better...'

They talked until they reached the compound. 'Be quiet, Safiya and the children are asleep,' Muammar whispered, and they went inside. Just minutes later, Muammar and Ibrahim had reached the store cupboard. There was a whole shelf of bathroom products that would put a supermarket aisle to shame.   
'Does it matter which hand soap dispenser I choose?'   
'Not at all,' Muammar said, 'just take one.'   
Ibrahim looked at the different hand soaps. Regular, lemon, lavender, rose... but Ibrahim chose a pale green soap dispenser.   
'How about aloe vera, Brother Leader?'   
'Aloe vera...' Muammar sighed, feeling his heart glowing just a little.   
'Excuse me?'   
'Oh, yes, that's fine, Ibrahim... shukran!' They walked out of the store cupboard and Muammar and Ibrahim went their separate ways. Muammar was eager to get back to the tent, his heart beating like a drum...

 

 

Back in the tent, the blanket still wrapped around himself, Muammar got the drawing pad and crayons out again. He knew exactly what to draw now...

Again, he got a bit annoyed with the limited colours, and was forced to use a bright pink. A few centimetres away from himself, and lower down than where he drew his oval-square, around the height of his elbow, he drew a square, and on the sides, slightly larger, longer and more pointed ears...

Picking up the bright pink crayon, Muammar drew a smile inside the square, near the bottom of the square, and above the somewhat lopsided smile he drew a pink vertical line for a nose. After picking up the black crayon and drawing two circles above the nose, Muammar looked at the crayons again. Again, he was a little annoyed at the limited colours, but Muammar chose a dark grey crayon and drew some wisps of grey hair, drawing them as gently as he could to make the hair look a lighter grey.

After that, Muammar picked up the bright pink crayon again and drew a short, thick neck below the squareish face. He picked up the black crayon and drew a square below the neck, then drew a black vertical line across the square, drawing buttons on one side, making it look like a white shirt. Muammar then picked up the grey crayon again and drew two long rectangles as a suit jacket, and two bigger rectangles as sleeves, colouring in all four rectangles. Underneath the shirt and jacket, Muammar drew a grey pair of trousers and underneath the trousers, he drew a black pair of shoes. Muammar bit his lip as he picked up the bright pink crayon again and drew two chubby hands under the grey sleeves.

Muammar had finished the drawing. It was a drawing of himself and his secret lover, Nicolae Ceausescu of Romania. Muammar hadn't seen him for months and missed him terribly, so he carefully folded up the drawing, put it in his pyjama top pocket, hugged his pillow and sobbed. He desperately missed having him in his arms, feeling his skin against his, his lips against his own and all around his body, just having him by his side. Yes, Nicolae was visiting Libya in a few weeks' time, but Muammar couldn't wait to see him again... 

 

 

_'Dragă, what's wrong?' Nicolae asked in a soft voice, lying down next to Muammar on the airbed covered in blankets._

_'Oh habibi,' Muammar sobbed, 'I just miss you so much, because I haven't seen you in so long...'_

_'But dragă, I'm right here!' Nicolae said, wiping away Muammar's tears. 'I've missed you too, and when I was banished to the spare room for a whole week, I cried into my pillow every night, wishing you could be beside me.' Nico joined Muammar under the blankets, still wearing an expensive British suit, and hugged Muammar tightly. They kissed each other on the forehead and just lay there, cuddling each other..._

 

 

Muammar woke up and soon realised that it was all a dream. He was disappointed that his Romanian habibi wasn't really next to him, but he knew he'd get to see him soon. Today was a warm and sunny day, and Muammar knew he had to go back to the compound to get ready for the day.

Getting out of bed and looking down at himself, Muammar saw a piece of paper poking out of his pyjama top pocket. _What's this?_ he thought. He took it out, unfolded it and saw it was the picture of himself and Nicolae that he'd drawn the night before.

Muammar smiled and headed for the compound. He decided that when Nicolae came to Libya, he was going to give this picture to him. 


End file.
